There were more than a few thoughts floating through my head
when I went to Spotify in an effort to listen to this new album. Mostly, I had
no expectations. Whereas the return of Fall Out Boy this year, brought huge
hopes – they delivered, by the way, in
spades – the notion of a new Panic at the Disco record made little impact.

Yes, I liked their first two records. Yes, I knew Brendon
Urie had a great voice. Yes, I knew they had potential. But I also knew the
group had gone through multiple lineup changes and had largely disappeared for
the past few years.

The first song, This is Gospel, is good. The second song,
Miss Jackson, was the lead single and decent. I was intrigued to keep listening
but I had yet to be amazed. I was wondering, after a full 6 minutes, how this
record was the #2 seller in the United States. Was it a simple matter of the
band having a bigger following than I had given them credit for? Are album
sales so minute these days – who buys a full album anymore? – that even a small
bump could overinflate a band’s standing.

Then Vegas
Lights hits. It starts with children counting up to 10…and then down from
10 to 1. When they finish, there is a pause. Then the bass kicks in. The drums
start. The melody hits. And Brendon Urie’s magnificent voice swoops in.

Ok, I knew instantaneously. I got it. This is where the
album starts proper.

“Oh, if you only knew
What we've been up to
I guarantee you'd keep it secret
So give it to me now
We're lost in a dream now”

Urie’s skill as a frontman have never been about the lyrics.
The lyrics are secondary to the instrument he plays, which is a voice that
rings true, rings strong and rings authentic. It’s also captivating. Much like
Patrick Stump and Fall Out Boy, Urie’s brings you in, pushes you out and forces
you to pay attention. It’s melodic to the point of absurdity – no one should be
able to sing like that!

He has made it clear in interviews that the album was inspired
by his hometown of Las Vegas. This is not exactly new ground either, as the
Killers have used Las Vegas and Brandon Flowers’ imagery of the city for years.

In this album, as ham-fisted as it is in Vegas Lights, it is
the sound far more than any of the words that hammer home the feeling of Las
Vegas.

That is the secret to the album and why it flows so well –
it’s the soundtrack to a night of chaos on the Vegas strip. It feels like a late
night. It’s over before you know it – a relative blur that checks in at just
over 30 minutes. The songs blend into one another. There is no overriding
storyline. There are no deep, thoughtful songs about the pain of celebrity or
life on the road.

It’s about dancing, partying and sex. It’s lyrics like this from Nicotine: “It’s a fucking drag / I taste you on my
lips and I can't get rid of you / So I say damn your kiss and the awful things
you do / Yeah, you're worse than nicotine.”

If you can’t figure it out – the singer is addicted to the lover
in the song. Did he just compare her to a cigarette? He sure did. What is more
late-night Vegas than that? When you’re finishing up your second pack of smokes
in the one place in America where that’s not frowned upon?

The songs continue on that same path, building up to a
catchy, intoxicating plateau where it is almost literally impossible to stop
listening. On Girls/Girls/Boys – a big hit now thanks to a naked Urie homage to
D’Angelo – the sex comes pouring through the speakers.

How could it not? He’s singing about a girl who can’t decide
between fucking girls, or fucking guys, or fucking both. It’s needlessly dirty.
It’s hopelessly addictive. I feel at this point, you could just write a
description of a Bachelor Party weekend in Vegas and superimpose in on this
record.

“Show me your love,
your love
Gimme more but it's not enough
Show me your love, your love
Before the world catches up
Cuz there's always time for second guesses, I don't wanna know
If you're gonna be the death of me, that's how I wanna go”

You cannot describe in words how Urie’s voice dances up and
down with the music for the last two lines up there. You have to listen to it.

In the end, Panic at the Disco delivered a spectacular album
because, much like the city that inspired it, they did what they do well
extremely well.

In the 1990’s, Las Vegas tried to become a “family-friendly”
tourist attraction, which had the devastating effect of not attracting families
while driving away the gamblers and partiers that build the city. They retreated to their sweet spot
– the now-infamous “What Stays in Vegas” theme. As the economy cratered, Vegas
doubled down on their bread & butter – you come here to party, to gamble,
to have fun and to escape.

Panic at the Disco had tried different things musically in
the past, with varying degrees of success. I like when bands try. But it
becomes a point when bands are forced to try everything in a desperate attempt
to appeal to a fickle music press and an even more fickle music-loving public.
Even when it works, like Kanye’s
Yeezus, there are those who don’t like the new direction. When it doesn’t
work, well you can probably recall about a thousand concept albums that were
better left undone.

There is none of that here. Of the first 9 songs, they each
last between 3:09 and 3:27, as if they are paying homage to Billy Joel’s Entertainer.
Remarkably, 2 songs come in at 3:09 and 2 songs come in at 3:18. Even more
remarkably, these duo songs of the same length are played back to back on the
record.

They made the same type of song 9 times! And I love it!

Like Randy
Moss running nothing but fly patterns or Randy Johnson throwing nothing but
fastballs, Panic at the Disco never strays from their successful formula for
even a minute until the typical album closer.

I never listen to the closer. When Collar Full ends, the
record ends for me. And I immediately start listening to it again. As I have as
I wrote this. And as I will as soon as I post this.